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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156496">Day 21: Blade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d'>mrs_d</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Do What I Wantober 2020 [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baking Shows, Gen, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Season/Series 05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:26:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Maze was bored. And when she was bored, she started to think about things she didn’t normally think about. Things she never used to think about. Things she didn’t want to think about.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chloe Decker &amp; Mazikeen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Do What I Wantober 2020 [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Day 21: Blade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maze twirled her blade idly between her fingers. She was — there was no other word for it — bored. Lux wouldn’t open for almost five hours, no hardened criminals had jumped bail recently, and Chloe was stuck doing paperwork all day. Linda was seeing clients, Amenadiel was on dad duty, and Trixie was at camp. </p><p>She could go out, Maze thought, and pick somebody up. That was always fun, and now that the apartment was empty, it was an ideal time. But that didn’t feel right. She could give her knives some TLC, she thought, looking at the fingerprints on the blade in her hand. But the effort of cleaning, sharpening, polishing — it seemed like a lot right now. There was no urgent need to do it right away; Chloe never wanted her to bring more than one blade to a crime scene anyway, for some dumb reason. </p><p>The knife in her hand spun faster, glinting silver in the afternoon sun, as Maze tried to think of some way to fill her time. The problem was that when she wasn’t busy, she started to think about things she didn’t normally think about. Things she never used to think about. Things she didn’t want to think about. Like how Lucifer left without saying goodbye. How Eve did — how she said too much. How Maze could still hear her words rattling around in her head. How big and brown Eve’s eyes were when she said them. How her hair fell around her when she shook it out after taking off her motorcycle helmet. How she smelled like honey and lavender. How her lips were so soft when—</p><p>With a pronounced <em> thunk, </em> the knife she’d been spinning now found itself buried three inches deep in Chloe’s wall. </p><p>“Whoops,” Maze muttered. She glanced around, found a thumb tack, then extracted the knife and replaced it with the report card that Trixie had left on the table when school let out two weeks ago. </p><p>She stepped back to admire her handiwork and shrugged. Chloe probably wouldn’t notice; she’d been working herself into the ground since Lucifer went back to Hell, and partying twice as hard whenever she could. </p><p>On her way back to her seat by the window, Maze nearly stepped on the remote. She picked it up and turned on the television, channel surfing through soap operas and infomercials before opening Netflix. She didn’t use it too much — normally Trixie picked out what she wanted to watch — so when a trailer for some kind of baking show started, Maze wasn’t sure how to make it go away. And by the time the trailer was over, she didn’t want to.  </p><p>She sank onto the couch, twirling her knife once more, and settled in to watch the first episode. </p><hr/><p>Chloe fished her keys out of her pocket as she neared her apartment door. She was tired. She’d worked late, even though she didn’t have to, because Trixie was at camp, and Maze would be at Lux, and Chloe didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t want to go out, either; though it was always a good time when she and Maze hit the dance floor. </p><p>“You idiot!”</p><p>Chloe jumped in surprise at the sound of Maze’s voice. She jogged the last few steps and shoved her key in the lock. </p><p>“Stop opening the oven door,” Maze shouted.</p><p>Chloe burst into the apartment, expecting to find an argument or a fist fight in progress, but the kitchen was empty.</p><p>“Maze?” she called uncertainly, her hand hovering near her holster. </p><p>Maze appeared around the corner, a bag of microwave popcorn in her hands. “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Can you believe this asshole doesn’t know that choux pastry needs a consistent temperature to rise properly? I mean, his croquembouche will stand, I’ll give him that, but his profiteroles are gonna be like bricks! Completely inedible.” </p><p>She shook her head disdainfully. “Amateurs,” she added, through a mouthful of popcorn. “So, how was <em> your </em> day?”</p><p>Chloe blinked, then laughed, relieved that she hadn’t come home to an empty house after all. “Apparently not as interesting as yours,” she replied. “Tell me all about it?”</p><p>Maze passed her the popcorn, and she did.</p>
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